


These Four Kings: Year Two

by escribo



Series: These Four Kings [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escribo/pseuds/escribo





	1. Chapter 1

Regulus hadn't cried when his father had seen them off at Platform 9 3/4 and he was stunned to see how many of the other first years had. He'd stood straight and solemn next to Sirius, nodding when his father spoke again about the importance of making the right friends and a good impression, and he felt very grown up in his starched uniform. No tie yet, but that would come soon. Sirius had told him that he could ask for the House he wanted, had told him Gryffindor was the best, had spent the entire summer whispering about all the things they could do, the pranks they could pull, the fun that could be had. Their father, who had only just joined them for the last week of their holiday abroad, had spoke every night about his days in Slytherin, of his own father and his father's father. When they finally boarded the Hogwart's Express, Regulus' ears rang with the refrain of family tradition, honor and pride, and Sirius' look of scorn had made Regulus' stomach twist.

Abroad the train, Regulus silently followed Sirius down the aisle and into the carriage where Sirius' friends already sat waiting for him. James Potter, who Regulus had met when their families' paths had crossed in Italy, was regaling the other two boys with stories of his summer. He could pick out Peter and Remus from the stories his brother had told; Peter Pettigrew, short and round with a moon face, and Remus Lupin, as tall as Sirius but thinner with golden eyes. Both boys were listening to James but grinned when Sirius came into the carriage dragging along his owl and his brother, catching James in a headlock and wrestling with him until the train rolled forward and they were off.

During the summer, their mother had allowed them to spend the day at the Potter's villa on the lake. They’d played and swam and James had shown them how to skim across the water on a broom and Mrs. Potter had bought them all ice cream, and Sirius a second one when Sirius had given Regulus his own when Regulus’ had fallen onto the ground because Sirius and James had been playing around. Later, their mother had said what a shame it was about the Potters, letting their boy run so wild, looking at Sirius as she’d said it. He’d found out then that their mother hadn’t given them permission to be with the Potters at all but had sent Sirius to take Regulus to see some distant cousin. She’d sent him to bed, then, and Sirius had come into the room they were sharing much later, his breath hitching in the strange way that said he was holding back tears and it made Regulus’ stomach ache. He’d hated James Potter then, because it was clearly his fault that Sirius had gotten into trouble. Regulus had crawled into Sirius’ bed, the sheets cooler than his own, and asked about Hogwarts, about the classes and Sirius' friends, because it always made Sirius happy to talk about them.

Sitting on the train, Regulus tried not to listen to James and didn’t reach for Sirius’ hand. He just crossed his arms because Peter kept looking at him like Regulus had something on his face, and studied the boy on the seat across from his, who had pulled his feet up onto the bench and was half reading, half listening. He was wearing jeans, an old, faded green t shirt, and a thin jacket that had a hole in one elbow. Muggle clothes, Regulus thought, and knew his mother wouldn't approve.

"C'mon Lupin, how can you read?" James asked from where Sirius had him in another headlock.

"It's interesting. My father found it in the shop when we got my school books.”

“It makes me want to throw up to read on the train,” Peter said unhelpfully, rolling his eyes and staggering back into his seat.

“Put the book away, Lupin. You’re making Pettigrew want to throw up.” 

Remus looked up, grinning at James’ joke but put his book face down on the seat next to him, his hand holding it still so that it didn’t fall off when the train jerked or shuddered.

“Tell us what you did for the summer, Remus," Sirius said, falling back into his own seat next to Regulus. "Or else I’ll have to ask Peter.”

“I didn’t go anywhere like you and James. Peter went to Brighton, though. He owled me.”

“Only for a week. It was hot and my brother brought his girlfriend.”

“I wasn’t allowed to owl you,” Sirius said, his voice low, and Regulus looked first at Sirius and then Remus when he said, "I know. It's okay."

“I’m going to be disappointed if the only thing you did was read, Lupin.” James stood and brushed his clothes off, smoothing down his shirt. “And you could have owled me.”

“You know we don’t have an owl.”

Regulus stared hard at Remus again. He’d never heard of anyone not having at least a family owl. He was 11 and had his own owl, sitting in its cage next to Sirius’. 

“You could have sent Peter’s," James said. "It knew the way to me."

"He only owled me back the once and half of it was in Latin, which you know I can’t read.” 

“See, I’m rubbish at writing letters that anyone wants to get. Can we stop talking about owls?”

“You didn’t read all summer. What else did you do?”

Remus shrugged, his eyes going to his book again, and Regulus thought that maybe he wouldn’t answer at all until Sirius kicked Remus’ leg gently with the toe of his shoe. “My dad and me came down by train yesterday to get my things and he took me to this big museum. We didn’t go anywhere else though.”

“You didn’t have to go anywhere. What did you _do_?” Sirius pressed.

Remus shrugged again, rubbing his fingers over a worn patch in the velvet covering of the bench he sat on. “My dad tutored me in maths. Calculus.”

“Is that like school work?” Peter asked, his face twisted in confusion at the idea that anyone could have spent days meant for lounging about doing actual school work. 

“Professor McGonagall said it would help with arithmancy."

"Did she come to your house?" Peter looked as though he thought this might be the worst thing he'd heard that could happen

"A few times, for tea." Remus blushed, looking from Peter to Sirius and then back down at this hand resting on his book. "They gave me problems to solve. Puzzles. I liked them and Professor McGonagall said I could start arithmancy this year. And I did _read_ a lot, and I mapped the woods down to the river.”

“You and your maps,” James said, rolling his eyes, but he was smiling, too.

“You found them helpful last year, like when you needed to find the Slytherin common room.”

“But cartography isn’t a _healthy_ way to spend the summer.”

“What’s cartography?” Regulus asked. 

“It means that Remus has an unhealthy obsession with making maps, no matter their usefulness,” James said and Remus’ lips quirked into another smile, his fingers curling around his book and sliding it back into his lap. 

“Don’t you dare start reading again. I’m declaring a moratorium on everything that even resembles an _academic pursuit_ ,” Sirius said, twisting his voice to mimic Professor Flitwick’s. “At least until McGonagall sets our first essay.”

“You’re going to have to translate that for Pettigrew.” 

“I know what he meant.” Peter sat up straighter in his seat and his arm shot up like he was in class. “He means no sending owls full of Latin that nobody can read during summer holidays.”

“I can read Latin,” Sirius said, grinning at Remus.

“I can, too,” Regulus said, not looking at Remus but Sirius.

“Which rather underlines the point of it being unnatural,” James said “C’mon, Remus. Tell me you did something _fun_.”

“My mum taught me to swim,” Remus said after a moment's thought, though he didn't look like he found it particularly fun, at least not how James meant it. “And my dad showed me a spell to make fireworks."

"I thought your dad doesn't use magic."

"He doesn't," Remus said, his cheeks going pink again. He sat up, giving it some more thought, and began to take off his jacket. His t shirt had a picture on it that was so faded Regulus couldn’t tell what it had been though he thought maybe an owl. "But this was special. It was just me and him. Anyway, that’s it. My summer.”

“How did you get those marks on your arms?” Regulus asking, leaning forward to point at the lines of scars across Remus’ arms.

Remus’ eyes flickered to Sirius’ as he reached for his jacket again, sliding it back on even though it was warm in the carriage filled with five little boys and four owls. 

“He was in an accident, Reggie,” Sirius finally said into the quiet of the carriage. “When he was littler than you.”

“I’m only a year younger than you. I'll be twelve in three weeks. How much littler?”

“Five,” Remus said, drawing his feet back up onto the bench and hugging his book to his chest again. 

Regulus could read the title, _Magical Mapping for the Contemporary Cartographer_ , and saw that the spine was broken. It looked old and tattered, like Remus' clothes and shoes. “What kind of accident?”

“Leave him alone, Reg. You don’t actually have to know everything.” 

“That’s how we can tell he’s your brother,” Remus deadpanned, opening his book, and Sirius leaned forward to snatch it from his hands, holding it out of reach. He climbed onto the bench when Remus jumped to his feet, both laughing, and Remus lunged at Sirius, catching him around the knees and sending them both onto the floor where James tackled them. Their rough housing only stopped when when there was a knock at the door and they found the tea trolley on the other side. Everyone stood to buy something, except Remus who just collected his book and settled back into his seat. 

Regulus, his pockets bulging with Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and Licorice wands, sat back in his seat to look out the window and ate a Cauldron Cake while the conversation turned back to Peter and his brother at Brighton. Sirius, his own pockets bulging as well, sat next to Remus and dropped a chocolate frog from his own stash onto Remus' stomach behind where Remus had the book propped against his knees. Watching him nibble at the chocolate as if to make it last for as long as possible, it dawned on Regulus then that Remus was _poor_ , too poor to buy himself candy. While his brother and James and Peter started talking about Quidditch and England’s chance at rebuilding their team in the face of this summer’s truly stunning defeat, Regulus studied Remus, his worn clothes, his second hand book, the hole in the elbow of his jacket, and remembered what his father had said when Sirius had come back from school before they’d left to travel: honor and disgrace, maintaining appearances, being careful with whom one associated. 

“You’re a half breed,” Regulus breathed out, leaning forward just a bit more to see if maybe there was some other mark, some other way of telling about Remus’ birth. Instead, he noticed that when Remus looked up over the cover of his book, his eyes were a strange gold color as the train turned and they headed truly north now. The sun fell across Remus, and Regulus also saw that Remus had a hair thin white scar across his neck that looked like a sickle. and that the soft half smile that Remus had worn was gone, his cheeks bright red for the third time that trip. Regulus didn’t think Remus was mad so much as embarrassed, and Regulus couldn’t work that out. Surely the other boys knew.

“What did you say?” This from Sirius, who a moment ago had been leaning towards James and loudly arguing Puddlefoot as a far superior seeker than Davies, and Regulus wondered how Sirius had heard at all, since Regulus hadn’t even meant to say it out loud.

Regulus swallowed hard, recognizing the way Sirius’ eyes darkened from the light silver-gray of cumulus clouds to the heavy gray of thunderheads. He knew it was a warning but pushed forward, the idea that Sirius could be angry at him too foreign. Sirius had always been his protector and the pursuit of this bit of knowledge was too tempting. “Father said one of your friends is a half breed. I didn’t know who. It’s Remus, right? It’s you.”

Regulus looked at Remus for confirmation, still unsure why Sirius was angry, and he was positive that Sirius was angry. 

“My mum is a Muggle,” Remus whispered, as if it was a secret and Regulus looked to Sirius with wide eyes, wanting to say, _see_ , but never getting the chance because Sirius was already on his feet and swinging wildly. His fist glanced off of Regulus’ chin before he drew back to swing again and Remus’ book fell to the floor as Remus stood, grabbing both of Sirius’ arms and holding him back. Regulus cupped his hand over his chin, shocked because Sirius had never hit him before, and James moved to stand between Regulus and Sirius though his features were hard, too, and nothing like the boy who had helped him build a sandcastle at the lake with six spires and a working drawbridge.

“Don’t you ever say that word again, Regulus!” Sirius yelled, struggling against where Remus held him.

“But that’s what father said one of your friends was. That’s what father said.”

“Don’t you dare repeat what he said.”

“But Sirius--”

“It’s okay, Sirius,” Remus said, his voice barely audible over the sound of the trains wheels clacking over the track, so quiet that Regulus almost didn't hear him. 

“No, it’s not.”

“He didn’t know,” James said, still looking down hard at Regulus, and Regulus remembered that he was meant to hate James for getting Sirius in trouble while they were in Italy, and he felt the same bitterness in the back of his throat well up for this Remus--the half-breed, he knew his father was right--who had caused Sirius to hit him.

“Apologize,” Sirius demanded of Regulus, and Regulus opened and closed his mouth, finding no words for what he wanted to say and settling on the ones that Sirius demanded.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Not to me.”

“I don’t understand. It’s what he is. Father said--”

“The word is vile. No matter who says it,” James said.

“But it’s true.”

“It’s true that his mother is a Muggle and his father is a Wizard, and it’s true too that being a pure blood means nothing,” Sirius bit out.

“Father said--”

“Father’s not here. I am, and I’m telling you that if you _ever_ say another word about Remus again, I will thrash you.”

“Sirius,” Remus said more urgently this time but Regulus watched as Sirius turned his head and gave a sharp shake that silenced whatever else Remus might have said before he turned back to Regulus.

“Do you understand that?”

“Yes.”

Sirius shook off Remus’ hands and pushed past James to stand in front of Regulus, his arms crossed over his chest. “Then apologize.”

“I’m sorry, Remus,” Regulus murmured, his cheeks burning.

“It’s okay, Regulus.” Remus sat down on the bench, and, after a while, Sirius picked up the book that Remus had dropped and handed it to him before he threw himself down on the bench next to Remus, his arms still crossed over his chest as he stared at Regulus.

The rest of the trip was quiet, James and Peter going back to their Quidditch conversation after a while and Remus hunched over his book, though he wasn’t really reading, Regulus could tell. He'd seen Sirius do the same thing on their last night home when Regulus had overheard his mother whispering to his father that Sirius was lost. He was beyond their reach, they had said, and he knew what they meant now. He knew they were right. Sirius wasn’t his brother, couldn't be if he would take the side of a half-breed over his own brother. Late that night, when the Sorting Hat had called out _Slytherin_ before it was barely set upon Regulus' head, he’d watched as Sirius’ features twisted hard against him and knew then that Sirius knew, too.


	2. Chapter 2

It seemed like forever to Sirius before James finally came sauntering up from the dungeons, his detention served, and they began making their slow way up to the Great Hall for dinner, already ten minutes late. Despite the afternoon spent scrubbing cauldrons until they shone, James was in a good mood, his hand jammed firmly into his pockets as he whistled tunelessly between retellings of how he managed to replace Snape's agave seed with a similarly sized and shaped Chaste Tree acorn. Peter's face lit up as he helped James describe the resulting explosion when Snape tossed the seed into his potion, which Sirius had missed because he'd used the distraction to sneak into the stores to steal more hen's teeth.

Now, all through dinner, Sirius was unusually quiet, which was enough to earn him several well-placed kicks from James when he got no laughs except Peter's for his jokes, and with each kick, Sirius' scowl deepened. 

"I don't understand how Remus can be so absolute pants at Potions and yet come up with something as genius as the prank this morning." James leaned forward on his elbows to look around Sirius to where Severus sat at the foot of the Slytherin table. He looked strangely and permanently startled, and glared when he noticed that James was staring at him.

"It's not that he can't do it," Sirius said, finally drawn from his long silence. "It's that he's not there to do it, and Slughorn takes points from him for it."

"We know that. You know what I meant." James tore off and tossed a piece of his roll at Sirius, and Sirius returned it with another scowl. "Why are you in such a foul mood?"

"I tried to see him after classes but Pomfrey said he has dragon pox and that I couldn't be near him."

"It was dragon pox last January, remember?" Peter asked.

"Doesn't matter if it was. She knows I had it when I was little but she still wouldn't let me in."

"Not that you're surprised, right? Considering that--"

"Yes, Peter, we know, but he's got to hate being in the infirmary with just Pomfrey." Sirius pushed his plate away and rested his chin on his folded hands. 

It had only been less than a week ago that they'd told Remus they _knew_ , and it'd been the hardest thing Sirius had ever done. They'd all promised him--Sirius had promised him--that it didn't matter, that they didn't care. All throughout that evening though, Sirius had seen nothing but absolute terror in Remus' eyes, even as he'd settled at a table in the Common Room, retracing the lines of his map onto a new piece of parchment, and Sirius had hated it. Late that night, after James and Peter had gone to sleep, Sirius had crept into Remus' bed to find him still awake, and made promises that he knew he was unlikely to be able to keep, but he hadn't been able to help himself. This had been one of them, that he would visit with Remus in the infirmary so Remus would know they weren't afraid, that Sirius wasn't afraid.

Sirius bit at his lip for a minute, turning to stare across the room at the back of his brother's head, before he looked back at James, willing him to understand that he was done breaking promises. "I swore to him that I would come." 

"Right," James said, sitting up straighter and placing his hands flat on the table in front of him. "So, we'll go see him."

"How are we going to get past Pomfrey?"

"We just have to make sure she doesn't see us." James grinned a little maniacally and Sirius knew James already had a plan, as he always did, and Sirius sat up, ready to hear it. "I was saving this for your birthday but since it's only a week away." 

"Saving what?" Sirius asked. James didn't keep secrets, not like Remus who had reason to keep them, and certainly not from Sirius, not to mention they were in and out of each other's trunks every day. 

"I'm not telling! You and Peter just meet me on the third floor near the statue of Wilhelmina the Wicked."

Fifteen minutes later, Sirius was pacing the hall while Peter was counting off all the Quidditch seekers for England over the last century, as if he was taking a roll call. Sirius was beginning to think it was some kind of nervous tic of Peter's, Quidditch stats, and he closed his eyes against the noise of it, sliding down to sit on the cold, stone floor, his back against the wall, and wondered where James had buggered off to. Suddenly everything was quiet and Sirius opened one eye to see what had distracted Peter and found that he stood in the middle of the hall, his hand outstretched as his book bag floated away from him.

"It's just Peeves, Peter." Peter only just tilted his head and watched as his bag was upended and the contents dumped on the floor. "For Merlin's-- Your wand, Peter! Use your wand!"

Sirius began to draw out his own wand but it was too late for that. He felt the still invisible Peeves grab his ankle and drag him across the floor and down the hall. Sirius' mouth fell open, shocked because Peeves never tried to do anything but ingratiate himself to the Black brothers. He heard laughing then, James' laughter, and then James was there, at least his head was. "What about _your_ wand, Sirius? Stop frowning at me so. It was a good joke."

"I know what that is," Peter said, his book bag forgotten as he raced over to James as the rest of his body appeared in the hall. Peter reached out to run his hand over the shimmering cloth James held in his hands and gasped.

"Where did you get it?" Sirius asked, forgetting to be mad and raising up onto his knees to crawl over to where James and Peter sat.

"It was in a trunk in our attic that belonged to my Grandpa Potter, I think. Anyway, that's where I found it, and it's how we'll get past Pomfrey."

"Does your mum and dad know you have it?"

"Not exactly. Nobody's been up there in ages though so it won't be missed." James swirled the cloak around him and half his body disappeared, leaving only his head and arm uncovered. "You don't mind that it's just me and Sirius this time, do you Pete? We'd probably all fit, even with Remus, only I did plan to show it to Sirius first for his birthday."

"Sure. That's okay," he whispered, his eyes and hand still on the shimmering material.

"We'll need you to go up and distract Madame Pomfrey."

"How?"

"I don't know. Think of something," James said as he lifted the hem of the cloak and pulled Sirius in with him. "Ask her a question or something."

"This is so weird," Sirius whispered as Peter headed off alone down the hall on his way to the infirmary. "You've used it before, haven't you."

"I had to test it out."

"That's how you got Peter's comic books back from Filch. I would have gone with you."

"I know. It was meant to be a surprise though, this, for your birthday. I had it all planned out. I'll have to think of something else now."

"No. This is good, James. I don't need anything else."

"You won't have any surprises on your birthday, though, except Remus'. Peter'll give you candy again and your parents will send you--"

"A howler, most likely."

"Money, I was going to say, like last year."

"I asked for a broom. They'll think it's silly because I didn't make the Quidditch team."

"We'll try out again next year."

"Thirteen. They'll probably send me dress robes and socks. Thank you, James, for this. For--" Sirius faltered then stopped, unable to find the words for what he really wanted to say, and scowled again, unaccountable furious with his parents. He was glad that James couldn't see him as they moved along the corridors toward the infirmary. He'd been taught write elegant letters of appreciation for gifts but he never meant a word of them, just knew the sound of them by rote and so had no idea what to say for this, for the trust and faith James put in him, that James gave.

James just shrugged his shoulders. "I'll still think up a good surprise for your birthday, and I know you'll like Lupin's."

"You know what Remus got me?" Sirius's voice rose up and his anger fell away, happy enough to get back on more familiar ground but James just hummed noncommittally. "C'mon, James. Tell me."

"No way. He made me promise. Look." James stopped and they both watched as Peter shuffled his feet in front of Madame Pomfrey just outside the infirmary and made urgent motions toward his chest until she finally let him in. James and Sirius, hidden beneath the cloak, sneaked inside behind them while staying well back. They stood stock still near the door while Madame Pomfrey ushered Peter into her office and waited until they couldn't hear voices anymore before they went to find Remus. 

They found him in a bed surrounded by a screen, asleep and looking pale and small in a teeming pile of sheets, blankets, pillows, and stark white bandages that covered his thin arms, shoulder and chest. Bruises still blossomed across his face despite Poppy's best efforts and a thin, jagged cut disappeared into his hairline. It was the first time either James or Sirius had actually seen Remus so soon after the full, and for a moment, they both just stood a little stunned before Sirius pulled off the cloak and fell to his knees at the edge of the bed. 

A few days after they told him they knew, Remus taught them all the fireworks charm his dad had taught him, which Remus had refused to do before even after weeks of wheedling by James and Sirius. Reaching out to carefully touch the bandage covering the back of Remus' hand, Sirius thought about the way Remus' hands had looked as he spent an extra hour with Peter until Peter could manage a small but bright purple starburst. The fireworks were why Sirius had stolen the hens' teeth because they'd used up the small bag that Remus' father had given him. They told him again in the middle of making bright blue shooting stars whizz around their room that it didn't matter that he was a werewolf, that it was actually really cool.

It wasn't, Sirius knew now. 

Sirius pressed the back of his against Remus' and James moved to stand closer to them, both now better understanding the scars they'd seen on Remus' body and the fear that had been in his eyes.

After a few minutes, Remus opened his eyes, blinking at them before he grinned. "I didn't think Poppy would let you in."

"She wouldn't," James said. "Poppy?"

"Madame Pomfrey. It's her name."

"Sure, but a first name basis?"

"Shut it, James." Remus was still grinning, though, which gave Sirius a bit of courage even as he kept his hand pressed tight against Remus', wanting to grab on but afraid to, afraid of hurting him, afraid of what James would think. Instead, he stayed quiet, listening to James and Remus talk. 

"We played the prank on Snape in Potions this morning. Worked a charm."

"I told you it would, though I didn't know you were going to use it on him."

"Who else?"

"I don't know. He was in here, though. Did it--"

"Just his eyebrows, like you said."

"He was blaming Sirius," Remus whispered, his voice rasping and hoarse to Sirius' ears.

"Sirius always gets all the credit," James said and Remus laughed quietly at how put out he looked. "He does!"

"It's not credit, you dolt," Sirius said, heartened a bit at the sound of Remus' laugh. "We're lucky we didn't get anything more than five points from Gryffindor, though we wouldn't have even got that if you hadn't dropped the other acorn." 

"It could have been mine. Slughorn only docked points because he's Head of Slytherin and it's like some kind of rule." James shrugged as if the actions of the professors were too bizarre to even contemplate. "You should have seen Snape, though."

"I did, when he came in. After that Poppy put up the screens. She said she has to keep me an extra day now because of the dragon pox thing so that nobody finds out." Remus looked embarrassed and pressed back against Sirius' hand, stretching his fingers until Sirius grabbed hold of them in a quick squeeze before letting go. "He looked really mad, especially when he saw me."

"He can't think you had anything to do with it." Sirius couldn't help the blaze of anger that coursed through him, though he found it familiar and almost comforting, better than the helpless feeling that stole over him whenever he looked at Remus.

"But I did, right? I--"

"We know that, but he doesn't."

"It's alright, Sirius."

"It's not. We'll take care of it, James and me."

"Who brought you this stuff?" James asked, pointing at a bag of candies that had spilled open next to a glass of water and a tall, green bottle of potion. 

"The Headmaster."

“Dumbledore comes around?”

“Yeah. Sometimes.”

“Does it hurt much?” Sirius asked, his voice quiet, and Remus flicked his gaze to Sirius, to where Sirius had moved his hand to tentatively touch the bandage on Remus' arm, smoothing its edges. 

“Not so much now,” Remus said.

"I told Sirius you'd be alright. He was up half the night worrying like an old lady."

"Shut it, James. I wasn't." Sirius felt his cheeks begin flush and he stretched across the bed to try to cuff James' arm but James jumped away, grinning at Remus.

"He tried to get me to say what his birthday presents were, too."

"I wasn't. He did show me the cloak, though. Did you know about it?"

Remus didn't get the chance to answer. The door at the end of the rows of beds that led to Madame Pomfrey's office creaked open as she came back with Peter in tow. All three boys froze and then James and Sirius scrambled for the cloak again. 

“I’ll come back later,” Sirius whispered, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he watched Remus' eyes go round with surprise at the sight of the invisibility cloak. He hadn't known. Remus pushed himself up on his elbow and held out his hand to them but dropped back just as quickly when they heard Madame Pomfrey and Peter just outside the screen enclosing Remus' bed. Remus closed his eyes as if asleep and James made sure they were covered completely before they stepped around the screen to follow Madame Pomfrey and Peter to the door. What they heard next, though, stopped them in their tracks.

“Pettigrew.” Professor McGonagall's voice was sharp in her surprise, and James and Sirius stopped, quickly stepping back behind the screen as if she would be able to see them. Sirius turned his head to look at Remus, saw he was sitting up again, his eyes wide but with worry this time. “What are you doing out at this time of night?”

“I had a question,” Peter stammered.

“And where are Potter and Black. Not likely too far behind, are they.”

“No ma’am. I mean, yes ma’am. I mean I don't know where they are but they would have teased me.”

“Oh, Minerva, let the boy alone.” There was laughter around the edges of Poppy’s voice and Sirius turned back to the sound of it, moving to the edge of the screen with James to look out. Peter's face was beet red and he was rubbing his hands one over the other, turning to stare at the door as if ready to bolt through. “He’s had a hard enough time of it as it is. A guinea pig to one of Potter’s pranks, I would bet, though he wouldn’t say.”

“No ma’am. I really did do it to myself. On accident.”

“Well go on, Pettigrew. Straight back to the common room with you.”

They heard Peter practically run for the door, and then as it clicked behind him Madame Pomfrey dissolved into laughter, though she tried to stifle it behind her hand.

“Oh that boy," Professor McGonagall said. "I supposed he hexed himself.”

“A third nipple. I don’t know how he did it.”

“Where did he learn that?” James whispered into Sirius' ear and Sirius felt James shake with laughter, his face buried against Sirius' sweaty neck as Sirius tried to stomp on his foot to keep him quiet. Sirius' lips tipped up into a grin of his own though as he saw Remus fall back onto his pillows and attempt not to laugh out loud. 

They heard Professor McGonagall make a sound somewhere between a cough and a sneeze, which made James shake harder, before she said, “Oh my goodness but I do worry about him.”

“Especially when you consider what a bright lad his brother had been.”

“Yes well, family lines don't always count for much. Look at the Black brothers. They couldn't be more different," Professor McGonagall said and Sirius sobered at the mention of his brother. "Anyway, I came to check on Remus. It’s the first chance I’ve had all day. I suppose he’s asleep by now.”

“I gave him a pain potion earlier and meant to take him a sleeping draught right before Peter came in. It'll have to be made over now. He’s been quiet, though he usually is, but maybe.” James and Sirius silently scrambled to get into a far corner as Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall came around the screen to stand at the foot of Remus' bed. “Asleep,” Madame Pomfrey whispered. “I don’t wonder, the poor child. He was in terrible pain this morning.”

“Was it very bad this time?”

“He has a serious laceration to his back that will take some time to heal but the rest should be fine by the morning. I admit that I had been ignorant really, as most people are, I suppose, but Minerva. It’s such a terrible affliction, especially to such a young boy, and what little literature I've been able to find says that it’s always worse during puberty. He could die, just tear himself apart. I’d never forgive myself.”

The boys were definitely not laughing now as they stood cheek to cheek as they listened. Sirius curled his hands into tight fists, wanting to fly at Madame Pomfrey, demand that she take it back, that she never say anything like that again. Instead he stood stock still, James holding his wrists, as he trembled.

“You mustn’t think that, Poppy, though I know what you mean. Albus says they’re years from any sort of cure though apparently there is some promising work being done in potions. It can’t come soon enough.”

“Do you think there’s nothing to be done for him though, during his transformations. I’ve asked Albus about maybe restraining Remus so that he can’t harm himself but he says no, it would be cruel to do it.” They both looked down at Remus before Madame Pomfrey perched on the edge of the bed and moved to straighten the sheets that covered him, then tidied the table. After a moment, she dropped her hands into her lap and sighed. "How is this not cruel?"

“His parents tried restraints when he was younger but the damage wasn't just physical. No, I have to agree with Albus, what we've done is for the best.” 

“You've seen his scars, Minerva. Fairly covered with them, he is. He’s been lucky so far that his clothes hides them, especially the first. He so self-conscious of them and he knows he won't be able to hide them forever. I worry that the other boys tease him.”

“Have you asked him?”

“He says no, but I’m sure he suffers. He’s such a sensitive boy; my heart just goes out to him." Madame Pomfrey took one of Remus' hands and held it between her own. "I have to admit that I favor him a bit when he’s here.”

“I find myself doing the same," Professor McGonagall admitted, looking a bit chagrined. “It’s hard not to. His father taught him and did a good job of it by any measure. He writes me nearly every week to make sure Remus is keeping up and being challenged. I wish the other parents were half as interested in more than criticising our teaching methods.”

“So, he’s doing well?”

“He does well in my class and he’s quite talented at Arithmancy, I’m told.”

“I didn’t think anyone started that until third year.”

“Exactly what I mean. He's a bright boy, inquisitive. Of course, if Black and Potter were better behaved, I'd have suggested it for them as well. They all do well in Defense Against the Dark Arts, though, despite the obstacles there.”

“I don’t suppose this year’s is any better than last year’s?”

“No," Professor McGonagall bit out. "There's not a bit of sense about Professor Arcanus.”

“I don't supposes she teaches the remedies either. What’s the point of learning defense if you can’t heal afterwards?”

"It's not been the same since Professor Merrythought retired." Professor McGonagall was silent for a moment, seemingly lost to her own thoughts as she moved closer to Remus but also closer to where James and Sirius stood practically on top of one another. They both held their breathes, afraid she'd find them out, and watched as she pushed Remus' fringe from his forehead then stood straight, her shoulders back, watching Remus in the dim light. 

"I worried that he would fall behind but he works quite hard, harder than most," she says, returning to the subject of Remus. "He keeps up with Black and Potter, which is no small feat. Yes, he’s a sharp mind and thank goodness for that. He could have easily been sorted into Ravenclaw.” 

“Ravenclaw might have been better."

"Why do you say that, Poppy?"

"Sirius Black has been by to see him twice today, and I’ve not let him in. I have to be honest that I was surprised the Potters allowed the friendship between him and James, even more that Walburga didn’t pull him out when Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor.”

"I’ll admit that I often wonder if perhaps we sort too early. As I said, Remus would fit well within Ravenclaw, but if anyone has had to show courage, it's been him. I'm glad he's in my House." Professor McGonagall shook out her robes and walked back to the end of the bed, letting James and Sirius breath again without her so near. "I'd never want them to hear it, but if I was honest I'd have to say I was glad for all three of them."

Under the cover of the cloak, Sirius turned his head slightly and smirked at James, desperately wanting to make the joke they were both thinking, to carry his mind away from what Madame Pomfrey had said, but his humor was short lived as Madame Pomfrey stroked her hand over Remus' hair one last time, tucked the blanket over his shoulders, and flicked her wand in the direction of the light on his bedside table. The infirmary glowed with the light coming from the moon through the tall windows and the boys could barely make out the matron's features, but they could still hear her words though she still whispered even as they moved away from Remus' bed. "But do you think it’s wise, Minerva, their friendship? If Sirius should find out about Remus’ condition..."

"They’ve proven themselves loyal, so far."

"Loyal, yes, when they think he's just a normal little boy like they are. If they should find out that he's a werewolf, don't you think it's likely to cause trouble, to put it mildly."

“You mean, should Sirius' _mother_ find out Remus would likely end up in some Ministry cage Merlin knows where, perhaps even Azkaban.” Professor McGonagall stopped Madame Pomfrey with a hand to her arm and pressed the other to her chest as she considered the possibility. “No, it doesn’t bear thinking about. We’ve taken all the precautions that we could, and surely first and second years wouldn't be able to piece together the nature of Remus' affliction. While it may be something we need to think about in the future, right now Albus believes the friendship might do Remus some good in the end. Potter and Black are certainly high spirited but Albus says that they may be exactly what Remus needs to draw him out.”

"But for his own protection, don’t you think--"

"No. Fresh air, exercise and good friends are what he needs. We need to let Remus be a little boy, Poppy. I understand his mother was extremely protective, keeping him out in the country so that he’s never had friends his own age.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t have done anything different.”

“Nor I, the way he's been treated and likely to be treated when he leaves here." Professor McGonagall linked her arm through Madame Pomfrey and began to lead her away, toward her office. “Here at Hogwarts, he’s protected. He can have as normal a childhood as is possible for him and thank goodness for that. I’m afraid his future will be hard enough.”

James and Sirius sagged some beneath the cloak but didn't dare come out until they could no longer hear their voices. Once it was silent again, Sirius shrugged out from beneath the cloak, shaking off the restraining hand that James had placed on his shoulder, and sat on the side of Remus' bed. Remus had turned way from them and laid on his side, the blanket falling to expose his back so that James and Sirius could see the long strips of bandages on his back stained dark brownish red and the mass of raised scar tissue on his side, just below his waist. Sirius wondered if it was the first bite and wanted to touch it but didn't dare and he didn't let himself stare at it too long either. Instead, he leaned forward, his hand gentle on Remus' shoulder, as he whispered in his ear. "I would never tell my mother, Remus. Never."

"I know," Remus whispered back but he had his eyes squeezed shut, as if the light from the waning moon hurt. 

Sirius stroked his hand over Remus' head, as he'd seen Madame Pomfrey do, leaning down even closer. "I won't let anything bad happen to you."

"We'll protect you," James whispered, and Sirius startled, having nearly forgot they weren't alone. He looked back at James and took strength in what he saw in his best friend's face.

"You can't. Not from this." Remus rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He moved his hand over his face lightening quick before dropping it back at his side. "No one can."

"We'll figure out something," Sirius said, promises tripping off his tongue before he could hold them back, same as he had the other night. With James at his side, however, he didn't feel quite as disingenuous. "James and me."

"How?"

"I don't know. It's just-- I'm not like my family, Remus."

"I know."

"We're Gryffindors," James whispered, kneeling on the bed behind Sirius and reaching to catch Remus' hand. "All of us, and Peter, and even more importantly, we're Marauders, okay? We'll find a way."

Remus forced a smile that didn't go quite to his eyes but was enough to satisfy James if not Sirius. 

"Besides, you'd have made a rubbish Ravenclaw. They've no sense of humor."

Later that night, alone in his bed, Sirius couldn't erase the image of Remus' pale face lost in the sea of bandages and pillows. He made one last promise that night and this one to himself, that he'd make good on everything he said to Remus--that they'd protect him, that it didn't matter, that he wasn't like his family. Curling up onto his side, sleep eluding him until just before the dawn, he thought about that last one for a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

Not that anyone had ever asked but Peter had a secret, too, though it was nothing like being a class V magical creature; still, it was one that he'd like to keep all the same. Thing was, it was hard to keep secrets around James and Sirius, and this was one they'd love to tease him about, he was sure of it. He could imagine Sirius' lip curling in the same sneer he saved for the Slytherins, against his family, spitting out words like _poof_ and _shirt lifter_ and really that was about the worst Peter could think of.

It wasn't even really a secret. It was kind of like how Remus liked to sit in the alcove on the third floor landing to read, he said, because he could hide behind the dusty curtains and no one could find him, not even Sirius, though Peter had followed him one day and knew that Sirius would sometimes sit in there with Remus. Or how James liked to sit in the tattered old blue chair in the common room, its stuffing falling out, because then he could see the bottom of the stairs that led up to the girls’ dormitories and know when Lily Evans came down, though he’d never admit it. This was no different. 

Peter liked when Sirius got detention and James didn’t, and there it was, his secret, and not much of one, though it wasn’t anything poncy like what Sirius would say. It didn't happen often because they were almost always together, James and Sirius, in trouble and out, but this time it had actually been Peter's fault, though nobody knew, and he wasn't about to own up that it had been him and not Sirius who had sent a jelly legs jinx into a group of Slytherins and managed to hit Remus instead. It'd been an accident, _honest_ , and would have been a good prank had it worked. He hadn’t meant to hurt Remus, though, hadn’t even known he was there, but then Professor McGonagall was marching Sirius to her office before any of them could say anything, and Peter woudn't have anyway because Sirius was looking murderous, and James was looking confused because he knew Sirius hadn’t done it, and Remus had been sent up to the infirmary because he broke his leg when he fell down the stairs. James said she was just sore because of what happened at breakfast and that he knew Sirius would never hurt Remus on purpose but especially not so soon after, giving Peter a significant look, but Peter knew it wasn't that at all. 

It had all started that morning at breakfast when Remus had got a letter and a package from home. The letter was from Remus' dad, Peter knew that much, because Remus got one every week but no one ever got to read them except Sirius. Peter was sure they said interesting things like--well, Peter couldn't think of what they might say, but he knew it must be about Remus being a werewolf and would be better than the letters he got rarely from home, which only told about his brother's job or girlfriend or what strange things the Muggle customers his mum tended said or did, and that wasn't interesting at all. So on this morning, Remus got his letter and a package, too, which he let Sirius open because he said his fingers still hurt but Peter believed it was actually because he felt sorry because Sirius only ever got either howlers from his mum or serious letters on thick parchment from his dad that were worse than the howlers from the look on Sirius’ face after he read them.

Inside the package was a pair of red mittens with a thin gold stripe that Remus' mother had knit for him and matching cap with a gold bobble. Sirius had immediately wrestled the cap onto Remus' head, tying the ear flaps down with the strings beneath Remus' chin, and the three of them had laughed, James the hardest, while Sirius put the mittens on. Remus' mum must still think he's four to have sent him that when no one else was wearing homemade stuff, and especially not mittens and hats with bobbles. It was a jolly good joke though, to watch Remus' cheeks turn bright pink and to have Sirius sling his arm over Remus' shoulder, his head tipped back in laughter when he hadn't been in a good mood at all since he'd come back from Christmas hols and not even James could tease him out of it, and for the first time in weeks it felt like they could all take a breath.

It didn't last though because some Slytherins came by hissing about Remus' gifts, about them being homemade, about him being there on scholarship, and they'd sneered the word like he imagined Sirius would do if Sirius found out about Peter’s secret. Sirius was on his feet in an instant and would have swung for whoever was closest if Remus hadn't held him back and just in time because Professor McGonagall could move bloody fast when she wanted to.

So, it hadn't been an accident, Peter’s prank, not really, but Peter hadn't at all meant for Remus to get hurt or for Sirius to get in trouble. It still meant that he got to spend the entire evening with James all by themselves in the boys' dormitory, playing exploding snap--James' version--and talking about Quidditch, and that’s what he liked best and it wasn’t poncy at all. James was already Peter’s best friend but when Sirius was gone, then he could be James’ best friend, too, and he discovered it was even better when Remus wasn’t there as well.

It was right when Peter had been about to suggest a raid on the kitchen, which wasn’t really a raid because the house elves liked to give them whatever food they wanted, James just liked calling it a raid, that Remus came in limping slightly. He’d headed straight for his bed, not even looking at James or Peter, and climbed unsteadily up, twitching the curtains closed around him. 

James was crouched on the floor in front of the wood stove, his hand still closed around the dice because it was his go. Peter bit his lip and studied him, waiting to see what he would do, waiting for the right moment to whisper about the kitchens, he didn’t want Remus to go because it would ruin it, and then he knew his moment was come and gone. James stood up and slid the dice into his pocket, walked over to Remus’ bed and pushed the curtain back enough so that they could see Remus was lying on his side, curled around his pillow.

“Sirius wouldn’t have done it on purpose,” James said as he climbed up on the bed to sit next to Remus.

“I know.”

“You can’t be mad at him.”

“I’m not.”

“Besides, it wasn’t him.”

“I know.”

At that, Peter stood up, his eyes wide, but they didn’t say anything else. He hadn’t thought that James and Sirius had seen. They were already a flight above, having run ahead. Remus was lagging behind, a book in his hands, trying to cram for the quiz he was sure they were going to have in transfiguration, so Peter _had known_ he was there but he still wasn’t aiming for Remus. The Slytherins were coming down the stairs, the same ones who Sirius had almost fought that morning, and it had just come to Peter. He’d send a jinx, the only one he knew really well, into the group of them. No one would know it had been Peter, and it would have been a good laugh, James and Sirius would have laughed, if it hadn’t caught Remus instead and set him wobbling and then falling backwards down the stairs. 

“Did it hurt?” James was asking Remus.

“No,” Remus said, and Peter knew he was lying because he wouldn’t look at James when he said it. “Madame Pomfrey said it was a clean break and she fixed it in a minute. She just made me stay because she thought I hit my head, too.”

“Sirius went spare. Professor McGonagall made me take him to her office and hold a cold towel on his neck for ages until Madame Pomfrey came down and they made me wait in the hall.”

“Why did she do that?” Peter asked, fearing for a moment that maybe he broke Sirius, too. James just shook his head, though, not answering. “She still gave him detention.”

“For fighting though, not because she thought he hurt Remus, and only for tonight, so I don’t think she really wanted to, and no points. She gave us a whole week when we got into a fight with those Ravenclaws, and that wasn’t even for real. I mean, we were just playing around and no one even got hurt, not really, and we lost ten points apiece for that. Sirius broke Avery’s nose and busted Snape’s lip before McGonagall even turned up and no points.”

Peter remembered watching James and Sirius turn when the group of girls that had been walking behind Remus had gasped as one as Remus began to fall and then Sirius had launched himself at the Slytherins. James had hesitated, his mouth open, until he saw Lily Evans kneel at Remus’ side, and then he’d gone after Sirius, pushing Peter over and against the wall. Professor McGonagall had turned up almost immediately, breaking up the fight, and Peter left then, not wanting to be caught. 

“So where did Sirius go?” Peter asked.

“What do you mean?”

“He didn’t come to afternoon classes. Was he in the infirmary?”

“No,” Remus said, sitting up.

“So where did he go?”

“I told you, Professor McGonagall made me take him to her office.”

“All afternoon?”

“No.” James flicked his eyes to Remus’ then away. He cleared his throat. “He was angry. I mean, _really_ angry. Professor McGonagall had Madame Pomfrey give him a calming draught and then sent him up here to lie down.”

“Sirius had to take a nap?”

Remus swallowed hard and laid back down, closing his eyes, the conversation done and Peter didn’t really think that was fair. He wanted to know what happened.

“Did you take notes for History of Magic, Peter?” James asked, changing the subject and obviously really not wanting to talk about Sirius, and that was the thing right? Because if James and Peter really were best friends and just left Sirius to Remus, then they could still be the Marauders without James feeling like he had to cover for Sirius and Sirius feeling like he had to cover for Remus. 

“It wasn’t my turn.” Technically it had been Remus’ turn and before anyone could point out the problem with that, Peter took a quick step forward, twisting his hands one over the other, turning the subject again. “Are you really here on scholarship, Remus?”  
Remus didn’t answer but Peter could see his neck turn a splotchy red and spread over his cheeks, real embarrassment and not like when James or Sirius said something to make him blush pink across his cheeks because it was funny. James kicked out at Peter and shook his head and Peter spread out his hands and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Let’s just talk about something else,” James said.

“Is it true that only a silver bullet can kill you?” Peter asked Remus in a rush because it was the first thing that came to mind after the scholarship thing, and immediately regretted it when James kicked out at him again, hissing _Peter_. Peter knew he should have suggested the kitchen raid instead. "What? I just want to know." He didn't dare add _I bet you want to know, too_ but he thought it was true. What was the point of knowing a real werewolf if you couldn't ask questions. 

“No,” Remus said, sounding slightly horrified. “I mean, I'm sure that would do it but I can be killed in the normal ways, all of which I’d really like to avoid.” 

Peter was slightly disappointed, like he thought Remus was going to have superpowers. He knew that wasn’t quite true but he thought maybe something like that. Peter skirted around James to perch on the end of Sirius’ bed, well out of kicking range.

“I can’t touch it, though, silver,” Remus finally said after a long silence and he sounded almost like he was consoling Peter. 

“What happens?”

“It burns me.” 

“Like it feels hot?” Peter asked, interested again. 

“I get blisters, like a burn. It can make my skin melt, I guess, not that I’ve tried.” Remus sat back up on his bed, leaning against the headboard as he hugged his pillow against his chest. Even James looked interested now, Peter noticed. "It's like being allergic to something, like that first year, Longbottom, is allergic to Artemisia pus and his hands swelled up.”

"My brother said it was a way to tell, about the werewolf thing."

"You told your brother?" Remus asked, panic around the edges of his voice.

"No. I just asked him."

"You can't tell."

"He won't," James interceded, giving Peter an exasperated look that clearly said _shut it_ and Peter knew he was pushing but he didn’t care because it wasn’t fair. Sirius wasn’t there and when he was, Peter would never get to ask anything because Sirius acted like Remus belonged to him alone instead of belonging to them all. And besides, everything he said couldn’t be wrong all the time. That certainly wasn’t fair.

"But that's what he said,” Peter said, and knew he was whinging. He really wished that Remus hadn’t come back until the morning, like he did when it was the full moon. Everything was ruined, the evening was ruined, and Peter folded his arms over his chest.

Remus chewed on his lip for a minute, looking from James to Peter, before he gave in, shrugging his shoulder. “I suppose you could use the silver thing to find out but you’d have to walk around touching people with a lump of pure silver, and I don’t think that’s even very reliable.”

“What’s not,” Sirius asked, tumbling through the door and slamming it shut. 

Peter blanched at the sight of Sirius and felt a little guilty besides when he saw relief cross Remus’ features. 

"Peter wanted to know the best way to tell the difference between a will o’ the wisp and a hinkypunk," James said quickly to distract Sirius and to cover for Peter. "For tomorrow’s Defense essay.”

“You haven’t done that yet?”

“Not yet,” Peter stuttered and slid off Sirius’ bed, smoothing the covers with his hand. He shot James a grateful look and breathed out, not daring to look at Remus. Instead, Peter watched as Sirius climbed up onto Remus’ bed and reached for Remus’ chin, tilting his face up so that he could look at the bruise on Remus’ cheekbone that Madame Pomfrey hadn’t healed.

Remus whispered, “It’s okay, Sirius.”

“It’s not,” Sirius said back but Remus was twisting away, clearly not wanting either Peter or James to see whatever passed between them. Sirius tackled him then, quickly pinning Remus’ arms to his side and holding him with his arms tight around his chest from behind, pushing him into the mattress. James stood and started to reach for Sirius before they heard Remus laughing when Sirius began tickling him. Sirius looked up at James suddenly, his gray eyes sparkling with his own laughter when he said quite calmly, as if Remus wasn’t collapsed into a giggling mass beneath him, “So what are we doing tonight, lads? Except Peter who clearly has his assignment to look forward to.”

“G’off me!”

“Well, once you're done snogging Lupin,” James started to say and Peter noticed that James looked quite relieved, too.

"I'm not!" Sirius sat straight up then launched himself at James, his fingers curling against James’ sides to tickle him and then they were fighting and laughing, both yelling, and Remus rolled up onto his knees, his arms wrapped around his belly, to watch them, laughing with them. Peter felt like he was the only one who didn’t get the joke but laughed anyway until their door swung open again, this time to Victoria Witherington, the sixth year prefect.

"Oi! Potter and Black!" Sirius jumped to his feet and held a hand out to help James up, who was still huffing out breathless laughter. “No fighting, then.”

“We weren’t,” James gasped out, straightening his glasses as if it might prove his innocence.

“Right. Enough of that for one day,” she said, looking pointedly at Sirius who crossed his arms over his chest and looked sullenly at his feet until the prefect left. As soon as the door closed, James grinned again, cuffing Sirius on the shoulder before he jumped back to sit on the end of Remus’ bed. 

“C’mon,” Sirius said once James had got his breath back. “What are we going to do?”

“Me and Lupin were just talking about that before you came in.”

“No, we weren’t.”

“We could sneak down to Hagrid’s,” James said, a plan clearly already forming in his mind.

“It’s cold out,” Remus said, moving back to lean against his headboard again.

“You’re always cold,” Sirius said.

“Not.”

“We could go down to the kitchens,” Peter said, looking hopefully to James.

Sirius rolled his eyes and gave James a shake of his head, and James said, “Not tonight, Peter.”

“Besides you’ve your essay,” Sirius said and Peter wanted to say _not_ , too, but couldn’t because Sirius was looking at him from beneath his too long fringe in a way that said he knew Peter had been lying about that and probably a lot of other things that day. 

“Hagrid’s,” James said again. “He’ll have something interesting about his cabin.”

“I’m not going out,” Remus said and as if to emphasize his point, he slipped his feet, shoes and all, beneath the edge of his duvet. “It’s snowing.”

“All the more reason,” James said.

“No. I’m not _always_ cold but I’m cold now, and I’m not going out.”

“You could try out your new hat and mittens,” Sirius said as a joke and Peter chalked it up as another thing that wasn’t fair because if he had said it, Remus would have gone red again instead of just giving that strange half-smile to Sirius and shaking his head no. “I’ll wear them, then, I bet they’re warm, and you can wear mine.”

Remus still shook his head no.

"We could take your map and add the south entrance,” Sirius wheedled, on his knees now and leaning his elbows on Remus’ knees so that they were nearly nose-to-nose.

Peter watched as Remus bit his lip, tempted, and then James and Sirius hauled him from his bed, knowing they had their in, and began piling clothes on him--Sirius’ spare jumper, James’ hat, Remus’ own scarf, Sirius’ gloves until he looked like a scarecrow and began laughing as James and Sirius pulled him this way and that. 

Finally, they were ready to head out, James holding the pieced together parchment map and a quill, while Peter sat alone on his bed, and the other three disappeared beneath the invisibility cloak. Peter couldn’t help but think about what was fair and not in this world. It wasn’t a minute later that the door reopened and Sirius stuck his head back into the room.

“Don’t think I don’t know that it was you, Peter,” Sirius said, the gold bobble of Remus’ cap wobbling as he pointed his mittened hand at Peter. Somehow he managed not to look ridiculous and Peter ticked something else on his list. “It’s the only jinx you know how to do proper.”

“I didn’t mean to hit Remus,” Peter said, his voice going high and reedy as he remembered what Sirius had done to Avery. 

“I know. Just improve your aim, right?” Sirius grinned at him, then, and shut the door behind him as he left Peter alone again.


	4. Chapter 4

To begin with, it had promised to be a bad day. Remus didn't get much sleep the night before, and what little he managed just after dawn was disturbed by James and Sirius' bickering. Then Peter and Remus were late to breakfast because Peter couldn't find his transfiguration essay and wouldn't leave without it, and wouldn't let Remus leave without him. It took them nearly a quarter hour of searching before Peter remembered he'd left it in the common room, this after Remus had asked him twice if he'd looked there.

By the time they found it, James and Sirius had made up in their easy way and long left them for the Great Hall, where Remus and Peter found them thinking up rude rhymes for a new prank. Remus almost immediately regretted showing them the repeating charm he'd read about, though he knew he should have known better. He ignored both of them in favor of hurriedly downing his porridge, which he drowned in a slurry of maple syrup, and took up James' discarded _Daily Prophet_ that the Potters had sent to him though Remus knew he only ever read the box scores for Quidditch.

Remus was hoping for a crossword puzzle when he ran across a small article buried on the bottom of the third page that stopped him, spoon frozen halfway to his mouth.

WEREWOLVES WAGE WAR ON WIZARDING WORLD

_One day before the full moon, the Ministry of Magic announced the passage of some long expected legislation that will provide for the expansion of the Werewolf Registry._

_"These measures are necessary to protect the Wizarding population against a recent onslaught of shocking werewolf attacks,” says Junior Assistant Undersecretary to the Werewolf Management Registrar, Deloris Umbridge. "We've been under constant attack for too long and must take all necessary steps now to protect ourselves from these ravening beasts before it's too late. No one is safe."_

_The legislation also expands the budget of the Beast Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to create a Werewolf Capture Unit, to be headed by Walden MacNair, a former warden of the Azkaban Prison. This new sub-department will be regulated by the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, which will determine when a werewolf is to be deemed dangerous as well as the type of punishment to be meted out._

_The Werewolf Registry was originally established in 1947 by Newton Scamander, respected magizoologist and author of_ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _. It remained voluntary until a recent rash of werewolf attacks in London forced the Ministry to review current policies after an outcry from the public. Werewolves will now be required to register their current location, next of kin, and in return will receive a registration number. Werewolves found in violation of the new registration rules will be detained for ten days in an approved Ministry detention center and fined up to 500 galleons._

_“There have been relatively few reports of werewolf bites in the last quarter century and only ten confirmed cases of lycanthropy in the last five years," Mr. Scamander said from his office in the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau when reached for comment last night. "Our efforts should be spent on treatment and management of the disease, rather than overprotective measures meant to strip werewolves of their rights and extend Ministry control."_

_Ministry officials disagree, however. “The werewolves have unquestionably declared war on the Wizarding world and we must take no chances,” Ms. Umbridge said. “Once we’ve identified a werewolf as dangerous, it is our duty henceforth to destroy the beast and protect our children. The Werewolf Capture Unit will be authorized to use lethal force once the Committee has identified a threat.” (For a full list of known werewolves turn to page 12)._

Alongside the article was a picture of a squat woman with a dinner plate sized pink bow quivering atop her tightly curled hair. She blinked up at Remus with a toothy smile and he felt a little sick looking at her. He put down his spoon and pushed away his bowl, stuck on the words _lethal force_ , and sat up straighter on the bench. His mind went toward images of being hunted through the Forbidden Forest, of being held in a cage _Merlin knows where_ , he remembered Professor McGonagall saying, and wondered what Azkaban would be like. He gave a shudder when Sirius put his hand on his shoulder, his grin suggesting that Remus should be laughing along with whatever joke he'd just said.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Remus said a little too quickly, not daring to look again at either James or Sirius, not trusting himself.

James reached for the paper Remus still held in his hand and Remus snatched it back, standing up too fast and upsetting his goblet of milk. He used his napkin to sop up what he could of the spill before he gave it up as a bad job.

"It's nothing," he said as he shoved the paper into his bag. "We're going to be late."

James and Sirius both narrowed their eyes at him before they looked at each other. Remus turned away, not wanting to see anymore, and headed out the doors before they could catch up.

Usually Remus loved his classes, even Potions, but all that morning he was distracted, by the article, by the way James and Sirius kept shooting him sympathetic looks because they'd finally remembered it was near the full moon. It was better than them knowing the truth, he thought, and kept his eyes straight ahead to where Professor Slughorn was lecturing, and eventually Sirius stopped trying to get his attention.

Remus hadn't looked at the listing of other werewolves, half afraid that he'd find his own name on it. He couldn't actually remember the time before he'd been bitten, except as snatches of playing barefoot in an overgrown garden or sipping from his dad's cup of tea early one morning. Even the night he was bit was lost to a haze of pain and the medications that had kept him alive. He was glad he couldn't remember it and he never tried too hard, but that meant all his memories, all his experiences, were as a werewolf, and he hated that, especially now that he knew other boys who didn't have that burden. He didn't resent them, he thought, he really didn't, but he couldn't help but envy them.

By the end of that afternoon's Transfiguration class, Remus was in knots about the article, about the moon, about his dismal performance in transfiguring a beetle into a pin cushion, practically first year stuff that even Peter managed with some ease. Worse still was when he spilled his brand new ink well, the last in his trunk, staining his ragged cuffs. Professor McGonagall had set a comforting hand on his shoulder then, which made him feel worse, and for the rest of the class he itched to be somewhere, anywhere he couldn't see the pitying looks, real or imagined.

"Mr. Lupin?" It was Professor McGonagall's voice that pulled him from his thoughts, realizing that he'd sat a moment too long after they'd been dismissed and the other students were already filing from the room. He kept his head down, his eyes never leaving the beetle that slowly crossed the morass of drying ink on the scarred table top, almost escaping until he nudged it with the tip of his wand.

"Remus," she tried this time. "Would you come with me to my office, please? I'd like to have a word."

"Yes, ma'am." Remus quickly shouldered his bag, eager to get this over with, and followed her to her office. He refused to look to where James, Sirius, and Peter stood in the hall waiting for him, and was perversely grateful when Professor McGonagall dispersed them with a sharp word.

Inside her office, Professor McGonagall lifted the lid from a tartan tin, offering a biscuit to Remus as she poured them each a cup of tea. Remus politely took a piece of shortbread, remembering his manners enough not to fidget in his chair, and nibbled on the edge of his sweet though he found he couldn't swallow. His thoughts had gone again to the article, and he wondered about the registration number and if he'd have to carry a card of some sort, to be surrendered when asked, he supposed. Setting down his biscuit, Remus sat back in his chair and twisted his fingers together, suddenly remembering the Muggle passport that had his picture and his name inside for when they traveled over the Channel in search of cures that didn't actually exist.

"There was an article in this morning's _Daily Prophet_ ," Professor McGonagall said, cutting through his memories of charlatans and pain and his mother's tears. "It's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"I saw James'."

"Then you know."

"Yes, ma'am. Have there been many attacks?"

"All so far unconfirmed. The Headmaster has sent an owl to Professor Scamander, who believes it's all nothing more than fear mongering." Professor McGonagall sipped at her tea, the porcelain cup covered in a delicate pattern of rosebuds and ivy. Setting it back down in its saucer, Professor McGonagall turned the cup three times before she spoke again. "The registry has served its purpose for many year in identifying potential dangers to wizards infected with lycanthropy and those not."

"They wouldn't always know, though, right? I mean, when I was bit my father didn't report it to the Ministry. They were afraid I'd be taken from them." Remus finally looked up at Professor McGonagall. He saw something like dread cross over her features, like some shadow of a deep sadness, he thought, though it was gone as quickly as it had come.

"No, the list doesn't account for everyone, and it doesn't list Muggles who are bitten because they are much less likely to survive. Their deaths are often reported as accidents and the Ministry has no clear knowledge of their numbers."

"Even wizards aren't likely to survive, my dad said. He said we were blessed because I lived when most die, especially because I was so young." With an ache settled deep into the very core of his bones as the tide of the moon swung ever closer and no parents near to soothe away the pain and whisper how very much wanted he was, Remus choked on his words. He bit his lip to keep from saying anything more, and looked down at his shoes, at his frayed laces.

"You are very much blessed, Remus." Professor McGonagall abandoned her chair and crossed to the tall windows that looked out over the courtyard. Dark gray clouds, heavy with rain, darkened the sky. She was quiet for so long that Remus jumped, startled, when she spoke again. "There are forces at work here, which I cannot explain."

"Voldemort?"

Professor McGonagall twisted to look at him, her hand clenching on the heavy curtains as a small gasp escaped her lips.

"Where did you hear that name?" She asked, her voice shaking.

"I've heard some of the older boys talking. They said it may come to war but I don't understand with who. The werewolves? Is he a werewolf, too?"

"It is not to be repeated, that name."

Remus saw the sadness again in Professor McGonagall, around her eyes and her mouth, even though her voice carried the same brusqueness as when she was handing out detentions to Sirius and James. Still, it was there and reminded him rather painfully of his mother. For a moment, he could hear her voice, just a scrap of an old nursery rhyme, _with moonbeam windows and with wheels of stars, hush my little one and have no fear_. He wished he could remember the rest.

"I won't," he finally said, but she had already turned from him. 

It took several more long minutes before she shook herself from whatever memory held her and Remus studied her--her ramrod straight back and broad shoulders, her black hair pulled tight into a bun at the nape of her neck and dark blue eyes that could be stern or kind, depending on her mood. When she turned back to him, she had drawn herself up very tall and clasped her hands tightly.

"You're safe here, Remus," she said, no trace of emotion left in her voice. "If you were to register, everyone here and abroad would know about your condition."

"I couldn't stay."

"Professor Dumbledore would never ask you to leave, and I would never allow it in any case, but life could certainly become more difficult."

"But they would pressure him. You. The parents." Remus couldn't bring himself to mention Sirius' mother. "It would be open season on the werewolf."

"Is that how you think of yourself?"

"It's what I am."

Remus watched as Professor McGonagall sighed deeply, her shoulders sagging slightly, and he did squirm in his chair then. He didn't dare look up when she leaned over him, her hands firm on his shoulders, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"You are so much more than that, Remus. It is a part of you, to be sure, as much as you are a good student, a good friend, and a good son. The Ministry may struggle with their policies, but you are a Wizard, and their decisions have little bearing on that." Professor McGonagall straightened up and looked down at him before she nodded once, and returned to her chair. She offered him the tin again, shaking them slightly when he would turn it down. Once he was nibbling on a biscuit again, a ginger newt this time, she refreshed her tea. It was several minutes before Remus gathered his courage enough to speak again.

"What about the Ministry?"

"Professor Dumbledore and I have already spoke with your father this morning. As long as you are a student at Hogwarts, you will not be registering. When you come of age, you can make that decision for yourself. Maybe by then people with sense will have ousted others like that despicable Umbridge woman, and these ridiculous laws will have been overturned."

***

Later, Remus was tucked up alone in a cubby beneath the stairs leading to the owlery. It had been an easier fit when he was eleven but he was sure the other boys didn't know about it and he'd been careful not to mark it on his still frustratingly incomplete parchment map. He wasn't ready to see them yet, James and Sirius, and so sat in the dark with nothing but a _Lumos_ charm that spread a weak light from the tip of his wand. He'd thought about owling his dad but couldn't form the questions to ask about the things Professor McGonagall hadn't said. Instead, he sat cross legged in the dusty space, cob webs in his hair, his pieced together map flat on the floor in front of him and his cartography book in his lap.

"It took me hours to find you. It's nearly past dinner."

Remus blinked in the sudden flood of light as Sirius pushed open the door to his last good hiding spot, but didn't bother to say he hadn't wanted to be found. It was Sirius, after all, and a statement like that would bring more questions than quiet.

"I'm not hungry."

"You barely ate breakfast and picked at your lunch."

Remus only shrugged in answer, staring at Sirius owlishly until Sirius huffed at him and looked away. 

"What are you doing anyway?"

"Reading." Remus lifted his book to show Sirius the cover.

"You've read it a thousand times. And why in here?"

"It has this geovisualization charm that I've tried but it's not working. I've missed something. I was just trying to figure it out." Remus poked at his map with the tip of his wand. It was a bit of a mess from being handled and rolled up, hidden in his trunk or the bottom of his bag. He wanted to trace it out again on a clean sheet of parchment but couldn't waste what he had left. It would have to wait until summer, and then he thought maybe his dad could help him.

"What's it supposed to do?"

"Tell me where I am on the map."

"But you know where you are."

"Not just me. It would should where you are, or Peter and James."

"You usually know where we are."

"I know, but I want to see it on the map. I want the map to tell me."

"I don't understand."

"Maps make sense. They can't lie and they can't hurt you. They just." Remus stopped, embarrassed by his outburst and by the way Sirius was watching him. He pushed the book and his map away, tossing down his wand, and drew his knees up to his chest. 

"I just want it to make sense," he said miserably, rubbing his fists over his face. "I just want everything to make sense."

"Budge up," Sirius said, pushing Remus' shoulder as Sirius crawled into the cubby with him and practically on top of him. He pulled the door shut, plunging them back into darkness. Leaning back against Remus, he drew out his wand and whispered _Lumos_. Remus drew himself up tight, turning his face away from the light of Sirius' wand, but Sirius ignored him for the moment, reaching for the book. 

"Do you have to register?"

"What?"

"I read the article in _The Prophet_." Sirius picked up Remus' wand and tapped it on the map. When nothing happened, he flipped some more pages in the book. "James figured it was something in the paper that upset you so I lifted a copy from Evans."

"Do James and Peter know?"

"James does, but we haven't told Peter."

"Do you have to?"

"No, not if you don't want us to." Sirius was quiet for a few moments, reading, and Remus watched him. The cubby really was too small for both boys and Remus tried to make himself as small as possible but Sirius didn't seem to mind that Remus' elbow was poking him in the side. After a while, Sirius took up Remus' quill and leaned forward to scratch some lines on the map and then picked up Remus' wand again. "What did McGonagall have to say?" 

Remus shrugged though Sirius didn't see him. "She just wanted to talk."

"She must have had something to say about it."

"My dad and Professor Dumbledore don't want me to register until I leave Hogwarts, but the article said there would be a fine and that they could hold me."

"We won't let them." Remus looked up at Sirius, disbelieving, and worried his bottom lip between his teeth. Sirius turned when Remus didn't say anything and smiled at him before turning back to the map. "We won't. You have to trust me."

"I do, but there's a Werewolf Capture Unit now. What if--"

"Nobody's going to take you because nobody's going to know."

"You figured it out, you and James and Peter."

"Me and James. We're exceptionally bright, McGonagall said that once, remember."

Remus did but they weren't meant to have heard it at all. Both James and Sirius liked to say it, imitating her heavy brogue, when they feel they've executed some particularly spectacular prank. "But--"

"Stop thinking about it, Remus. Nobody is going to take you from us," he added more quietly. "Look."

Sirius waved his own wand over the map and a tiny flag floated across the top, which was unmarked territory except for Sirius' rough sketch--the owlery, where they were hidden. 

"There. You'll at least know where I am." Sirius looked over his shoulder and grinned at Remus, and Remus couldn't help but smile back at him until it was too much, until his eyes swam with tears and his stomach flopped in a funny way. Sirius thankfully turned back to the map then, tapping it until he got it to show Remus as well. For a while, Remus just stared at the two little flags until he finally leaned in and pressed his cheek against Sirius' shoulder, and Sirius let him, sitting very still for a long time.


End file.
